


A Match For a She-Wolf

by LyaStark



Series: In Another Westeros [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Mother-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 03:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19880611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyaStark/pseuds/LyaStark
Summary: Lady Catelyn Stark prided herself in the fine matches she had made for most of her children. The only one she struggled with was Arya. But after some trial and error, she found that the less she pushed, the better the results.





	A Match For a She-Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU where Aerys and Rhaegar died from a wildfire accident before the Battle of the Trident. Rhaella and Elia reached a peace accord with the rebels and served as joint regents during Aegon's minority. They also abolished the practice of sibling incest.

Lady Catelyn Stark prided herself on the fine matches she had made for her children.

Robb had been promised to Princess Daenerys since they were children during his fostering in King’s Landing. They had been wed these five years past, with a daughter and a son to show for their efforts. Catelyn’s oldest girl was thriving in Casterly Rock, the Lady of the Westerlands. Her precious Bran was betrothed to Bethany Blackwood and serving as a squire to her uncle in the Vale. Even little Rickon was on his way to a betrothal with Princess Arianne’s daughter and heir, Mariah.

The only child she struggled to find a match for was Arya. Oh, there were many suitors and offers, yet her willful girl wouldn’t have them.

The first of them, Catelyn understood. She had wished to wed Arya to her cousin, Robert Arryn. The future Lord of the Vale was of an age with her and such a match would strengthen the bond between Winterfell, the Eyrie, and Riverrun into the next generation. When they visited the Vale a few weeks after Arya’s twelfth nameday, it didn’t take long for the notion to sour for all of them.

“He’s a whiney baby who still sucks from his mother’s teat!” Arya had cried when they retired to their apartments on the second night of their visit.

“You’ll be his wet nurse and wife both,” Bran had said with a laugh.

“I’ll make him fly through that moon door before I ever wed him!”

Even as Catelyn chastised her children for speaking ill of their cousin, she cast the notion of a betrothal in that corner aside. Even if the boy hadn’t been such a fragile and weepy thing, the unhappiness in her sister’s own marriage was sign enough that she should aim for love matches for her children where she could. Where there was no regard, there was no strength in the alliance.

“Why can’t I be a lady of a holdfast of my own, like Aunt Lya?” Arya asked one night during their trip home on a galley out of Gulltown.

Catelyn had struggled to answer that. Maester Luwin would teach the children the details of the Rebellion soon enough, but how could she explain to her daughter that the aunt she loved so well was ruined and that any marriage she might have would be far below what a lady of her birth deserved? More than that, how to explain that this was not a happy outcome that a girl should hope for?

“Every holdfast in the North is already claimed or in ruins,” Catelyn said. “Restoring Tumbledown Tower into something your aunt and cousin could live in cost a great deal. They’re still expanding and strengthening it. Even if one such could be found for you, the expense would outweigh any gain.”

When Catelyn saw Arya’s eyebrows crush together and that willful jut of jaw she knew all too well hardened, she hastened on.

“What’s more, you could hold far more influence and power as the lady of a great or noble house. That is how we are able to serve and protect our family, by marrying well and forming unbreakable alliances. Lyanna is content in her holdfast, but if war were to threaten the North, she would have but few swords to bring to our aid.”

“Aunt Lya would help us if we were in trouble,” the girl insisted.

“She would do all she could,” Catelyn agreed. “But having the will to help is not the same as having the means to do so. Were you Lady of the Vale or Lady of the Stormlands, you would have large hosts at the call of your lord husband who would be honor-bound to aid us just as we would be bound by honor to aid you and yours. Even better than that, if we form enough strong alliances, there need be no wars at all, for the realm would be one great House.”

Arya’s brows were still knitted together over those grey eyes, but her chin had softened. _Gods be praised, she is listening,_ Catelyn thought.

“Robert Arryn couldn’t help us,” Arya said after a moment.

“Mayhaps not, but there are other lords who may make an even better match for you.”

The next few years were spent debating this offer or that. Ned favored a Norther match, but Catelyn preferred to hunt farther afield. There was too much of Hoster Tully in her not to appreciate out of region alliances.

“I’ll marry a wolf,” Arya proclaimed once when Rickon japed that a Wildling would have to carry her off to make her wed. “Lady Mormont married a bear, so I can wed my sigil too.”

“And make pups with the stable boy you have been kissing?” Rickon teased.

Arya would have overturned her tankard over his head, but Eddard clasped her wrist.

“What stable boy is this?” he demanded.

Though they had sent the lad to serve at Lyanna’s holdfast to the north and ordered Septa Florence to keep a firmer watch on Arya, Catelyn redoubled her efforts to make a match for her. An invitation to visit Starfall so Arya could meet the freshly knighted young lord with hints at a possible match should the meeting go well left Catelyn conflicted.

Thankfully, news of a royal visit to Winterfell stole away all of her attention. The king would hold a progress through the North, including the great seat of Winterfell. She thanked the Seven that Arya took so well to managing the household and overseeing the accounts. Catelyn had shared these responsibilities with her these three years past since she was five and ten. They worked together making preparations seamlessly until they arrived at deciding the order of the procession during the welcome feast.

“You’ll be wanting me to lead the king, I bet,” Arya accused, her grey eyes narrowed.

Catelyn looked up from the seating arrangements to stare at her daughter in confusion. “I had thought to lead him. Your father will escort his-”

She would have said “queen”, but King Aegon had no queen save the queen dowager who would remain in King’s Landing to preside over the governing of the realm. The king was a year older than Robb, unwed and unpromised. This realization sent Catelyn’s heart soaring. She hadn’t considered him for her daughter, but should they take a shine to each other on this visit…

Long experience with her daughter had taught Catelyn how to manage her willfulness. Somewhat. Should she make her newly formed hopes known, Arya may look unfavorably on him out of hand.

“Your lord father will escort the king’s mother, Princess Elia,” she continued. “Do you wish to partner the king?”

Arya stared at her.

“You may, if you wish, but the royal family may wonder at that choice.”

“You don’t mean to push me at the king?” Arya asked, that grey gaze still brimming with suspicion.

“Sweet one, you know as well as I that we have already secured a royal match for our House with Robb and Dany. A second would-” secure our family for generations to come “-be greed. Were I Queen Rhaella or Princess Elia, I would have wed him to Margaery Tyrell or Mrycella Hightower when they came of age. If not, there are other girls from House Lannister or House Tyrell that are still unwed. Or he may wish to look across the Narrow Sea for a queen.”

Arya shook her head. “The Tyrells already have a royal match. Princess Rhaenys is wed to their heir. You know that. But even so, Alla said they regret the match on account of the Red Viper crippling Willas. He doesn’t hold any ill will, but his grandmother is against Targaryen marriages and all of them hate the Dornish. Lady Olenna fought to have Margaery wed to a Hightower instead. Alla says they only want Reach marriages from now on.”

Many times Catelyn had found herself grateful to the friendships Arya had formed with people around Westeros during their visits, whether it was her good brother, Tyrion Lannister, Mya Stone in the Vale, Edric and Cassana Baratheon in Storm’s End, or Alla Tyrell during their visit to the Reach some years ago. Much unguarded information had come north as a result.

If all of the Tyrells were off the table, that left the Lannisters or more precisely, Cersei Lannister’s daughter with Baelor Hightower. They may have made peace with Robert Baratheon after the deaths of Rhaegar and Aerys, but they weren’t likely to make his daughter queen. Otherwise, the king’s best match was Arya. Catelyn cursed herself for not realizing before. The only trouble – aside from her girl’s willfulness – might be any hurt feelings that might linger over Lyanna and her son. But even that seemed unlikely given the good feelings between the half-brothers. The king had even legitimized Jon as a Stark so he might inherit Lyanna’s holdfast and carry her name.

“Then mayhaps he will wed a Hightower lady,” Catelyn said with as much nonchalance as she could muster. “My hope for you is Lord Edric Dayne. If not him, mayhaps the silent sisters will take you in. But that is not our purpose today. We must needs arrange the seating for the feast.”

Catelyn made no mention to Arya of any prospective matches in the weeks that followed. They simply made ready for the royal visit, bringing Daenerys into their efforts from time to time.

When the day came, all of Winterfell and the Winter Town came out to watch King Aegon of House Targaryen, Sixth of His Name ride through the gates at the head of a 300 strong column of bannermen knights, ladies, men-at-arms, and so many others with the black and crimson banners flapping overhead.

Catelyn allowed herself a sidelong glance at Arya who stood to her left. She was rewarded with a glimpse of undisguised admiration on her daughter’s face before all of Winterfell knelt as one.

“Rise! My lord! Dany! Everyone! Rise!”

When Catelyn looked up, she saw the king pull her lord husband to his feet and greet him warmly, before enveloping Dany in an embrace. Behind him, the rest of the royal procession began to dismount. A swarthy knight of the Kingsguard handed Princess Elia out of a lovely wheeled-house engraved with patterns of suns and dragons. Once introductions and pleasantries were made on both sides, their royal guests were shown to their chambers.

“He is no longer the child I knew in King’s Landing,” Catelyn noted to Arya as casually as she could while they made their way to check on how the cooks fared in the kitchens. “He is as comely as they say.”

“He is,” her daughter agreed. “But he isn’t half so fine as that horse he rode in on. The black beauty with the red mane. I’ve never seen a horse like that before, all skinny and agile. It must be a sand steed. Do you think we can send to Dorne for one? I know I already have a mare but another need not trouble the stable hands too much. I can care for her myself and muck the stalls.”

Catelyn tried to hide her disappointment as she informed Arya that she would not be doing anything of the sort in the stables.

Not for the first time, she despaired at ever finding a husband for her daughter. She had resolved to plan for the visit to Starfall just as soon as their expenses were settled from this royal visit. But then her hopes were renewed that evening when she saw Arya blush as the king asked her to lead the first dance with him.

\----

Arya was relieved that her lady mother and lord father weren’t attempting a match between her and the king. If they had, she and Aegon might never have become friends. She would be tripping over those courtesies that made her sound so stupid and stiff every time they spoke. He would be doing the same and she would know he was a liar, no matter how pretty he was. And he was very pretty.

Rather than exchanging false courtesies, Arya found herself cursing at Aegon, who kept an effortless lead as they raced through the Wolfswood.

The first few races were more even. Though his sand steed could all but fly, Arya knew the woods better then him. Now, a fortnight into the royal visit, the king had grown more familiar with the terrain and easily outstripped Arya, Jon, Dany, and her brothers. Only Elia Sand served as a match for him astride her own sand steed.

“I would beat you,” Arya said afterward in the stables, “if I had a horse like that.”

It was just the two of them and El who had remained to rub their mounts down.

“You might,” he agreed easily, running circles over the silky black hair. “You sit a horse like you were born in the saddle. It’s a good thing I have an advantage.”

Once she secured her mare’s stall, Arya joined the king beside his mount. Waiting until she was certain the horse saw her, she rested a firm hand on his shoulder.

“He’s so slim and graceful,” she mused.

“Like you,” the king said. “Mayhaps, you can ride him next time.”

Arya turned to Aegon, an exclamation on her lips when she heard a snort behind her.

“Don’t be fooled, my lady,” El called from her mount’s stall. “It’s not the horse that he wants you to ride.”

The flush Arya felt flaring over her cheeks made her feel so stupid. She felt even more stupid upon realizing that she hoped El was right, even as the cousins snipped at each other playfully.

Despite the great toll this royal visit would take upon Winterfell’s treasury, Arya enjoyed it a great deal. All the new people were fascinating. She especially loved to see how much power and influence Princess Elia wielded. Not only did she sit at her son’s side when he held court in Winterfell’s Great Hall, she also presided over her own women’s court in the Winter Town.

“The notion was Queen Rhaella’s,” Princess Elia explained to Arya and Catelyn during their return to the castle. “No women’s courts had been held since the days of Good Queen Alysanne. Were I a cynic, I might suspect that that explains why the realm has never known greater peace and prosperity than under her and her husband’s reign.”

“Will Ae- Will the king do anything about the women’s concerns?” Arya asked.

Princess Elia laughed. “Oh yes, my son is well versed in listening to women.”

Arya couldn’t but admire the king all the more for that.

The first time she kissed Aegon was in the godswood. It was his fault. Covered in a couple layers of fur, he had been fretting about how “unnatural” the weather was, what with the summer snows.

“How can this be summer when there’s snow?” he demanded as they watched Dany and Robb’s daughter Alarra run about with the other children of the castle, while Septa Florence dozed against a tree. “I don’t know how you don’t all freeze to death.”

“The hot springs keep us warm,” Arya insisted.

“Why do you think I’m standing here?” He nodded toward the bubbling hot spring beside them.

“You’re still shivering,” Arya noted. “You ought to get closer.”

Giving him one quick shove, Arya tried to dash away, only for the king to grab her arm as he fell, dragging her into the spring with a splash. It took everything in Arya not to shriek at the sudden impact of what felt like boiling water, lest she get a mouth full of it.

When she managed to stand, she heard him laughing. Sopping wet, pale hair plastered to his golden skin, he would have looked ridiculous, what with all the soggy fur and all. But those lilac eyes were just as bright and merry as always.

“You stu-” But she stopped herself from outright insulting her liege. “That was unkingly,” she said instead.

He only laughed. “That was unladylike.”

Aegon’s smile took the barb from the words and nearly made them a compliment.

“So is this,” Arya said before hopping up to brush his lips with her own. Then she splashed him.

Springing away, out of his reach, she hoped he might chase after her. That hope was rewarded. Aegon came splashing after, but without his fine horse, she was too quick for him, especially in the water. Jon often called her a fish, she was such a strong swimmer like her lady mother. Arya had been so consumed with dodging the king that she missed the attack from land.

“Caught you!” Alarra squealed, jumping onto Arya’s back.

Though only a babe of scarcely three and a half years, she brought Arya under for a moment. Long enough for Aegon to catch up before she could right herself.

“I’ve caught you both.” He laughed, his arms around the pair of them.

“You could never catch me on your own,” Arya insisted, laughing and struggling between him and her niece.

Their splashing woke Septa Florence who scrambled to her feet. “Arya! I – You- Forgive me, Your Grace, but this is not proper.”

“We’re only playing with Alarra,” Arya insisted.

She felt a bit of disappointment when Aegon’s arms slid from her. In contrast, the babe wrapped herself more tightly to Arya.

“All the same, you will want to get out of those wet things and dress for dinner,” Septa Florence insisted, her blue eyes darting nervously between them. “Alarra will as well.”

Arya smiled down at the king once she climbed out of the hot spring. “You ought to stay in there.”

“Your Grace,” Septa Florence reminded her.

“Your Grace,” Arya repeated. “It’s even colder once you get out.”

The next time they kissed was in the stables. The kiss lasted far longer and was much more urgent. But that was where Arya used to kiss and play with Lark before her parents sent him away. For some reason, that made her feel strange. That and the smell. So she bid the king meet her back in the godswood the next night when the rest of the castle slept.

“Was El… right?” Arya asked between kisses. She hoped to sound more confident and experienced than she was. This wasn’t a boy who had her pressed against a tree but a man grown and a king besides. “You want me … to mount something … other than your horse?”

Aegon pulled back and looked at her. In the dim light of the moon, she couldn’t make out his features. Was he judging her? Had she overstepped? Arya thought he was much more open and less prudish than most, what with the way he and El joked with each other.

“El was right,” Aegon confirmed before kissing her again, long and thorough.

Just when she was about to reach up to unfasten his cloak, the king stepped away from her.

“I spoke to my lady mother about you today,” he said.

Arya stared at the darkened outline of him in confusion. As much as she admired the beautiful and dignified Princess Elia, she had been one of the farthest things from Arya’s mind just then.

“I asked her what she thought of a match between us,” he said. “Between you and I. Mother thought it a good notion. Do you? Do you wish to marry me?”

This was not the first marriage proposal Arya had received. But it did sound like the most stilted and sincere that had ever been made to her. That in itself was enough to give her pause.

Arya wanted to kiss him. She wanted to fuck him. But did she wish to wed him?

Aegon would be better than all her prospective matches in many ways and not only because he was the king. She would be stupid to refuse. More than that, Arya found that she didn’t want to refuse. It was only that…

“You don’t wish to marry me?” The stiffness in his tone was the only indication of his feelings on her silence.

“I don’t know,” Arya said honestly. “I like you.” No that wasn’t right. She admired him, enjoyed his company, and she wanted to fuck him. “I more than like you. I-”

Her hands framed the dark outline of his face and drew him down to kiss her again.

“I don’t want to leave Winterfell forever,” she said against his lips.

“We can return from time to time,” Aegon assured her, folding his arms about her waist.

“Can I choose my own ladies and companions?”

“Some of them,” he said. “But you can’t be seen as only favoring the North.”

She grinned at that. Her friends ranged from all corners of Westeros. “Will I sit on your council and be at your side during court?”

She could feel his face curving into a smile in her hands.

Arya had expected to spend part of the night fucking him beneath the heart tree where the gods good see. Yet instead, they sat together hammering out marriage terms and exchanging kisses here and there.

By the time it was light enough that they could make out each other’s features, Arya struggled to keep her eyes open.

“You will speak with my father today?” she asked, examining their joined hands.

“I will,” he promised, “once I sleep for a few hours.”

After kissing a while longer, they parted for their own quarters. No sooner did Arya’s head fall upon the pillow than she felt Septa Florence shaking her awake.

“My lady, you’ll sleep the whole morning away,” the septa said. “Up, up, up. You already missed breaking your fast with the rest of the castle.”

“You’re a liar,” Arya insisted with a yawn. “I only just closed my eyes.”

“It’s time to open them. Your lady mother has been asking after you.”

Arya shot up like a loosed arrow. _Lady mother_. She had to tell her about the king’s proposal. She would be so pleased.

Once she finished dressing at Septa Florence’s insistence, Arya raced into her mother’s solar, blurting out, “Lady mother, I-”

But Lady Catelyn raised her hand for silence before she could begin to spill out her news. With a warning in her eyes, her mother glanced around at the rest of the room. Arya did the same and found several women of Winterfell and southron ladies doing their needlework together. Princess Elia smiled warmly at her and Arya shyly smiled in return. She would be her good mother soon. Hurrying over to her mother’s side, she fidgeted with her dress. Lady Catelyn handed Arya something simple to work on, but she knew she only made a mess of it. Arya couldn’t concentrate what with the excitement coursing through her.

Once the other women became engrossed in their own conversations, Arya felt safe enough to start her own in a low tone. But what to say? How to begin? Unbidden, something her lady mother told her sister before her own wedding two years ago came to her.

“You said you didn’t love father when you wed him.” The remark sprang from Arya’s mouth before the thought had properly settled into her mind.

Mother looked up from her needlework, her blue eyes shifting from surprised to curious. “No, I didn’t love him then,” she responded in a hushed tone meant only for Arya. “Nor did he love me. We wed for duty. That is the firmest foundation for any alliance and any marriage. Not passion or even love.”

Arya put on a show of chewing her lip for a moment.

“That means I ought to refuse King Aegon’s proposal of marriage then,” she said. “I love him and feel very passionate about him. That’s no way to start a marriage.”

Without so much as waiting for a response, she rose from her seat and calmly strode from the solar. Arya couldn’t fight the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she heard her mother rushing after and calling her name.


End file.
